


Temporary Insanity

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Light Dom/sub, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, accidental aetherplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: Berylla has too much to drink, and makes some serious mistakes...
Relationships: Nero tol Scaeva/Warrior of Light, Y'shtola Rhul/Warrior of Light
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Temporary Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> This is rather dark, very NSFW, and involves a lot of bad feelings, so please be warned!

“Another! Line 'em up!”

The laughter was raucous, the ale was flowing, and everyone was in a rambunctious mood. All the Scions were home for the night, with nothing major pending other than Alphinaud's research project.

Alphinaud's visit to the Waking Sands had lasted three whole days, during which time Minfilia had put out the call for anyone of a mind to help sort through musty tomes. When he returned with his arms full of notebooks, there was already a team waiting for him. Now, an even dozen scholars from all over the Alliance – even a pair of middle-aged astrologians from Dragonhead – crowded the dormitory, and extra tables had been set up in the main hall, to accommodate the piles of tomes, notes, and diagrams.

Some nights I'd sneak in, find a quiet corner, and just watch them all. It was fascinating for me, to see Alphinaud like this. He was in his element, and he was _brilliant_. His eyes shone as he argued and chased down leads, and when the less focused talk began, after the evening meal, he was as vibrant as I'd ever seen him, nattering about carbuncles and higher equations. It didn't matter that I had no idea what any of them were talking about.

Too few nights I was able to make the trek all the way to Dragonhead. Haurchefant was too often busy for entertaining – something about needing to patrol much more often due to more raiding. He would smile at me if I asked about it, but instead of answering, he always distracted me. Then again, distraction was why I was visiting him – so I didn't mind.

I spent a lot more time out at St. Coinach's, where the scholars were excavating an ancient Allagan ruin that they were calling the Crystal Tower. The tent they let me use there was cold, uncomfortable, a little too small...but I could focus on those tiny things and push away the looming loneliness.

Since most of us were merely sifting through books instead of mowing down enemies just now, everyone had a lot of energy to burn off. Well, mostly – the explorations at the Crystal Tower were continuing, and I had plenty of things to murder, though today had been relatively light on combat.

A couple of the Coinach's people were here tonight, in fact. Their red-haired Miqote researcher – G'raha – was challenging Hoary Boulder to a drinking game, his odd-colored eyes bright and his laughter loud as he lifted his mug again and again. Whatever he'd found today, it had him in quite a cheerful mood. I shook my head a little, knowing that the big Roe would have no trouble drinking him under the table.

After the long days of work to get us all moved here and settled, in – it was wonderful to see the place full and noisy. I glanced over at the bar once more, where F'lhamin deftly handled drinks with her daughter's help. It made me warm all over to see Minfilia's eyes shine. It should always be this way.

But for all the cheer here, I just wasn't in the mood to stay. Not tonight.

I swallowed my ale and set down my mug.

I got up, and movement near one of the doors caught my eye – a flash of white against midnight blue.

Alphinaud was moving towards one of the doors that led into the private quarters. I squinted slightly as I saw that he had his arm around the slim shoulders of – _is that one of the Doman girls?_

The door opened, and he turned his head. His cornflower blue eyes met mine, and he flashed me a slightly twisted, but smug, smile.

I felt myself go hot, then cold, as the door shut behind the two of them.

I walked out into the main tavern.

“Four Ishgardian beers,” I told the woman behind the bar, slapping down the coins.

She blinked at me, then shrugged, and scooped up my money. In short order I had four bottles, tied by the necks, and I walked outside into the square.

The gloom was in, again, and I made my way up to my spot up on the heights. From here I could gaze out toward the Keeper of the Lake and the hulks of old Imperial ships. Two empty bottles of beer lay on their sides near the wall, and a full one rested by my feet. My third beer was in my hand, unopened, but for a moment I just stared out at nothing.

_Alphinaud's with someone tonight. Not that it matters. Except it does. Damn it, why do I care?_

I yanked at my braid, hard. _It's because I'm stupid. He's his own person, what the hell is wrong with you, Berylla?_ A cruel little voice in the back of my head whispered. _You're jealous and you're horny, and you're a hypocrite._

I opened my third beer, snarling silently at my inner voice. _Shut up_.

“Ah, thank you, that would be very welcome indeed.” A hand appeared and nicked the bottle right out of my hand.

I turned slowly, muscles tensed, to see just who had the stones to steal my fucking beer. _I'll be polite enough to ask a name first, so I know what to put on the grave marker_...

The man was dressed in a style I had never seen before, and his pale blond hair looked a little damp as if he'd been sweating recently. His eyes were covered by a pair of dark spectacles, but they did nothing to cover the crystal in the center of his forehead.

I was on my feet in an instant, snatching the beer back before it reached his lips. His mouth opened, his brows furrowed, but the rest of him was far too slow to react as I slammed him against the wall, my arm across his throat.

I set my beer down with exaggerated care even as I held him in place. His hands clawed at my arm as he gasped for air. Then he started to reach down towards his coat.

“Oh, no, you don't, you scum,” I snarled, and used my now-free hand to grab his wrist. With a yank and a twist I spun him round, smashing his face against the wall and twisting his arm up behind his back. His dark glasses clattered to the ground.

“Peace!” he yelped. “I am _not_ your enemy, you madwoman!”

“A likely story.” I could smell dust and something acrid on his clothes, pressed up against his back as I was to keep him from squirming. “There are no Imperials among my friends.”

He huffed as I increased the pressure on his arm. “No? So Garlond is no longer a friend of yours?”

I didn't let him go, but I did pause. “Cid Garlond no longer counts himself among the Emperor's subjects,” I said, in a low, dangerous growl. “You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I break your gods-be-damned neck.”

“Savage,” he grunted. “I suppose I shouldn't have expected a friendly welcome, even when I'm obviously no longer in the Emperor's service.” I tightened my grip on his wrist, and he hissed. “Fine, fine! You fought me, yes, but I escaped. However, in light of the subsequent events – such as your annihilation of the entire Praetorium – I deemed it wiser to maintain the ruse that I had died in action. I no longer wish to labor for no recognition, no appreciation. I am a free agent, now. I came here with the most peaceful of intentions, I swear it.”

“You're...Nero tol Scaeva, wasn't it?”

“Just Nero will do well enough.” He grunted again. “Are you going to let me go?”

“Not yet, I'm not. You tried to murder me, if you'll recall.”

“Doing the job required of me,” he protested, and hissed in pain again as I pressed in on his arm then let off a little. “Seven _hells_ , woman! What would you have of me then?”

I gritted my teeth. “What intentions do you pretend to have, coming here? You said peaceful, but you're a weapons maker, and an Imperial dog. What do _you_ know of peace?”

“I'm looking for work,” he told me. “Nothing more. I know there's an outpost of the Ironworks here. I'm sure they could use someone of my caliber in their weapons department.”

I ignored the pun, and took a deep breath. Then the scent coming off him registered in my memory at last. “You're a lying bastard,” I growled. “You stink of Allagan machinery. You didn't come slinking in here from some hiding spot in a cave. Where have you been?”

He clenched his teeth. “Immaterial to my being here now.”

“I _don't_ think so.” I kicked at his legs until he fell to his knees with a strangled cry. Reaching into my pouch, I pulled out the coil of enchanted cord, glad my thaumaturge friend had made it for me. I swiftly tied Nero securely – hands _and_ feet – and left him propped up behind a pair of tall crates.

“Hey! You can't just leave me here like this!”

“Can't I?”

“You're a bloody _hero_ , aren't you? Heroes don't tie people up who haven't harmed them!”

“I hardly think you can claim to have _not harmed me_ ,” I retorted. “You stole my beer.”

He spluttered as I turned away, snatching up my open beer and drinking half of it in one long swallow.

“I don't want you going anywhere until I get back.”

“ _Come back here!_ ” he demanded, but I ignored his yell as I stalked off.

The drinking was still going strong when I came into the Rising Stones, and Y'Shtola was right where I'd left her. I came in, smiling at the few who noticed me, and came up behind her, leaning down so I could speak near her ear.

“I need you to come outside with me. Now.”

Her ear twitched, the delicate fur tickling my cheek, and she turned her head to give me a narrow look. “Oh?”

I could smell the whiskey on her breath. Without considering it, I reached out and took the half full glass from her, and knocked it back. “Yes. Now. Please.”

Her eyes lit with curiosity, and a hint of something more. Anticipation.

The same anticipation threaded along my nerves. _Damn it, if I can't have the one I want, I'll take whoever I can get_. After the other thing I needed her help with.

She followed me outside, and up onto the heights. When I stopped, she spoke quietly. “A good bit of privacy here. No one's likely to come up here, nor to hear anything but the loudest of shouts.”

“Yeah. And there may be some shouting.” I went over and dragged Nero out from behind the crates.

Y'Shtola's tail went stiff with surprise.

“The pests are getting quite large around here,” I told her lightly, as Nero sputtered and cursed.

“And this is why you brought me here?” Her eyes held mine.

“One reason,” I grinned a little.

She frowned. “I do not understand.”

I pushed Nero into a mostly sitting position, wedged in a corner between the wall and a big crate. Then I walked over to Y'Shtola and murmured, too quietly for him to hear.

“I want to question him. He claims to be here to look for work, but I trust him as far as I can throw him, if that. Once we're done with him, then...” I let my breath tickle her ear just a little. “Then maybe we can play around a bit?”

“Just what do you propose we do?”

“A gentle interrogation,” I suggested. “Maybe you know something that will ensure he can't lie?”

“Hm.” She thought about it, and then her ears twitched and her tail lashed a couple of times. “Have you anything liquid?”

I grabbed the half-empty beer, and showed it to her. She nodded once and took it from me, then dug in her pouch. After a moment, she came up with a tiny blue vial. She shook it a little, then tapped out a pinch of white powder into the beer.

“Give it to him.”

I took the beer over to Nero, who eyed me warily. “You wanted a drink, did you not?” I asked him. Then I grabbed his jaw and set the bottle to his lips. “Bottoms up.”

He was so surprised he started swallowing on reflex, and before he could try to spit it out, I had clamped his nostrils shut so that he had no choice but to finish it off or suffocate.

When I let him go, the beer bottle was empty, and he was coughing and glaring at us. “So this is how you heroes operate,” he spat. “Tying up and poisoning your foes even when no violence was offered you. You truly are savages.”

“Do shut up,” Y'Shtola said in a bored tone. “If I wished you dead, there are at least seven ways I could have done it without laying a finger on your filthy hide, Imperial.”

“What have you done to me, then?”

“Hypnosis powder,” she answered. Nero's pale eyes went a bit wide, and she smiled, showing her teeth a little. “I see you know of it. Then you know that we have done you no active harm.”

I sat back, and grabbed my last beer, opening it and taking one swallow. Then I offered the bottle to Y'Shtola.

She accepted it, and took a lady-like sip. Nero watched us, and we watched him, passing the bottle back and forth between us. As the beer vanished, so did the tension in his body. His eyes went a little glassy, and his expression went slack, but he wasn't asleep.

“So what _did_ you do to him?” I asked as I finished the beer off.

Nero laughed a little. “Hypnosis powder,” he said, his words slurred. “The victim can't help but tell you anything you want, do anything you want. Won't remember a thing later.”

I raised my eyebrows, as Y'Shtola nodded. She took the empty bottle from me, and gestured. “You can untie him. He won't move unless or until we tell him.”

“All right.” I went over, and unmade the knots, coiling the cord back up and replacing it in my pouch. “You can sit comfortably,” I told Nero, “but in the same spot you are now.”

“All right,” he agreed, with a slightly sloppy smile, and flopped down, his legs splayed out in front of him, leaning against the wall.

“Now let's get started,” Y'Shtola said, moving forward.

Less than twenty minutes later, we were both satisfied with the information we'd drawn from him. He'd been wandering the Carteneau Flats, looking for some Allagan relic or other, and had found something interesting – but not something he could tinker with on his own. So he'd come this way, thinking to find work of some sort, and perhaps work towards funding an expedition out to his “pretty.”

“Well then,” I said, “I guess...now we can just leave him here, go inside...get to the fun part.”

Y'Shtola's eyes gleamed at me. “I find I don't want to wait long enough for going inside. Shall we make him watch?”

I eyed the engineer. “Hm, would it make him dangerous?”

“Hypnosis powder induces impotence in most males.” Her laugh was part purr.

“Oh, then by all means. It's the least we can do to him. After all, he won't remember it to tell anyone, will he?”

Nero whimpered a little. “Oh, gods, you must be joking. Your cruelty knows no limits.”

“That just makes me want to do it that much more,” I told him.

Y'Shtola's hands skimmed over my clothes. I was drunk enough that everything seemed to float a little, and watching her undress me was fascinating as much because of that strange degree of separation as because of the sensuality of it. I could see Nero, looking at both of us, his expression already rather strained. Somehow, the notion of being watched added another layer of excitement to it all.

My shirt fell open completely, exposing me, and I welcomed her into my arms as she pressed herself against me. I remembered being drunk another time...and how she had comforted me. My hands seemed to remember more than I did, cupping her ass carefully without touching the sensitive tail. Her lips met mine, and I tasted whiskey and beer on her tongue. Her aether fluttered against my senses.

I moved one hand up to bury my fingers in her thick soft hair, and hitched her up against me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, grinding herself against my belt. I heard Nero whimper a little, and grinned.

I moved, setting Y'Shtola down on top of the very large crate not a yard away from the man. It was a wide one, enough that she could lay back if she wanted. I hooked my thumbs into her pants and smalls and dragged them off her. I felt her eagerness, and it fueled my own as I dropped her clothes to the ground.

I kissed her again, hard, even as my hands pressed her thighs apart. Already I could feel the wetness, the heat, and I eased off the kiss just enough to mutter, “Open for me. I want to taste you.”

She shuddered, and shifted her hips before leaning back on her hands.

I'd done a little work in conjury – barely scratching the surface, true, but I knew how to make my aether move at my will, a little. A useful trick for self healing – but also...memory tickled my mind as I spread my fingers wide and dragged my hands down her front, from her collar bone toward her belly. As I moved I let the aether trickle outward, into her, along her skin. She groaned, and I brought my palms back up, rubbing in lazy circles, willing a touch of warmth into her.

Her nipples hardened under my touch, and she hissed, her ears going flat for a moment as the sensation sharpened. She used one hand to claw open her tunic, baring one breast, and I moved in, lowering my head. My hands wrapped around her waist. My mouth fastened on the brown flower-bud of her nipple, fast as a hawk stooping on prey.

“Ah!” Her head fell back and she dropped her hand to keep herself from falling completely on her back. Her tail whipped against the crate, and her hips ground against me, pleading for more.

I dropped one hand to her sex and slipped two of my fingers into her, and she cried out again, the sound so sweet to my ears that I groaned. The vibration of my voice against her nipple drew more gasps, and as I fluttered my tongue against the hardened flesh, I felt her shuddering around my fingers.

I knew I was probably moving too fast, but I couldn't stop.

 _I'm too hungry to stop_.

I let go of her nipple and knelt, adjusting so that I had three fingers inside of her, and my other hand gently parted her folds, baring her to me.

She panted as she looked down at me, and I kept my eyes on hers as I leaned in, my mouth opening and my aether curling into her along with my fingers.

The long, low, shuddering moan she gave me as my tongue brushed her made me damn near come right then.

I listened to her with all my senses, and delicately flickered the tip of my tongue across the sensitive flesh, working her with my fingers. Her breath was ragged as she gasped and moaned. Her flesh quaked in my hands, under my tongue; the juices flowed from her and she tasted somehow sweet and musky and wonderful. I could smell her sex, her desire, and her aether reached out to mine, caressing, clinging, clawing at me. I obeyed her silent pleas and buried my fingers in her, the rhythm of my strokes becoming harder, faster. I set my mouth against her, lapping and sucking, and finding the hot little clitoris. I fluttered my tongue against that heat, licking hard, and she shrieked, one hand now on my head, fingers knotting in my hair.

She bucked her hips and I matched my strokes to her motions, even as I felt wetness spreading against my pants. My need and my lust rose up, carried on the mingling aether, and suddenly she was coming on my hand, crying out in short sharp little screams of pleasure, her eyes shut tight as her tail beat out a stuttering tattoo against the crate.

Nero groaned, and I felt my energy curl around his aether too – not my intention, but I _couldn't stop –_

Y'Shtola's breath nearly stopped as she stiffened against me, her body clenching hard enough to bruise me, and she screamed once and fell back, going completely limp.

I eased out of her, and raised myself up, astonished. She had fainted.

“Well...shit.” My body throbbed with need. I hadn't meant to do that to her. _Maybe I used too much aether...?_

She seemed fine, just asleep – but even when I shook her a little she didn't stir.

“Damn.”

I was hornier than ever, and now my playmate was out cold.

My aether trembled, and my eyes turned towards the man sitting four feet away from me.

Nero's eyes met mine, and widened. He looked, for a moment, both horny and terrified.

I got up, and moved to stand over him. He gazed up at me, his eyes wary, his body quivering as I slid my pants down my legs and kicked them off.

“Clothes,” I said shortly. “Off. Now. Then sit down again.”

I watched him try to fight it, but the drug did its job well; in a few moments, the dusty traveling clothing was on the ground next to him. He wasn't bad looking – pale, and still somewhat dust covered in places. But he didn't need to be spotless, not for what I was after.

“I thought you hated me.” His voice was still slurred. “What are you going to do?”

“I don't hate you.” I went down onto my knees, bringing my face level with his. “But if you're going to come into my territory, steal my fucking beer, and generally make a nuisance of yourself – and then claim that you're here to make yourself useful?” I leaned forward. “Then prove it. I have a use for you right now.”

“Use me?” He squinted. “You have no morals.”

“I'm horny,” I said bluntly. “I'm frustrated. Maybe you wouldn't be in this predicament if you'd stayed the hell away from me, smart ass.” Somewhere in the back of my head, part of me was beginning to shout in growing dismay, but the beer and the lust were in control.

“I won't...do what you want.” He tried to look away from me.

“Won't you?”

“Don't t-touch me.”

I reached out and stroked a finger along his collarbone. He hissed a little, and his cock twitched.

I hummed at him, and let my lips stretch in a predatory smile. “It looks like your body is quite flustered, there, Nero. Surely you must be feeling a little needy, after what you just watched me do.”

“No.” But his voice was faint. “Stop.” His jaw tightened as he dragged out the sibilant.

“No.” I crawled toward him on hands and knees. I felt a demented chuckle lunge up out of my throat as he pressed against the wall, trying to avoid me without actually moving.

His groan was equal parts need and refusal as my mouth closed over the head of his cock.

I held him in my mouth, teeth just grazing the sensitive flesh, and then I _reached_ for his aether.

His body stiffened as my lust threaded along his veins. His cock swelled, so hard it surely must have hurt him. A strangled noise came from his throat, as his pupils dilated and his hands clenched on his thighs, the nails scoring the tanned skin.

I lifted my head, and met his gaze. “Are you still going to tell me no?”

His breath smelled of beer and his eyes were half glazed over. He seemed unable to form words, his mouth opening but no real sound escaping.

“I thought not.” I moved closer, arranging myself until I was straddling his hips. I leaned into him, resting my hands on his shoulders, whispering into his ear as I wriggled a little.

“Feel me,” I told him, even as I stroked my soaking wet mound against him. “Can you really say you don't want this? To rut shamelessly like a _savage_?”

He shuddered, and I laughed deep in my throat. He was so very hard. I didn't even need to use my hands – all I had to do was wriggle upwards just a bit and...

“Ah,” I groaned into his ear as I speared myself on his cock. “That's good, isn't it...I'm going to fuck myself on your cock, and you're going to like it as much as I do.”

I seized him with my aether, and his hands came up and clamped against my shoulders as I began to bounce in his lap.

I talked as I fucked him, whispering filthy things in his ear. I could feel him shuddering with every word, with every twitch of my flesh around his raging cock. I could hear him, trying to curse me under his breath even as he groaned with pleasure. I stoked the fires of his body, making him like it, making him want it, and yet somehow keeping him held at the edge of orgasm.

The control was a rush like nothing I'd ever experienced. He couldn't resist me. He couldn't stop me. He was completely in my power, until I let him go.

The feeling was too much. I ground myself against him, slamming my hips down onto him.

“Fuck,” I groaned, willing his hips to move with me. His hands tightened, bruising me, and I hissed in approval. The pressure built and built, and yet I couldn't...quite...

He grabbed the back of my head and crushed my lips with his, even as he thrust into me, harder and harder. I tasted blood as his teeth broke the skin of my bottom lip; my nails dug into his shoulders.

He was speaking, words muttered into my mouth, but I couldn't understand him.

My aether snapped back on itself as my orgasm finally crested, and I howled against his mouth as he ravaged me with his cock.

With a shriek I yanked myself back, but his hands clamped around my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to make me yip in pain even though I was still coming. He buried his cock in me, and the groan that left his lips sounded like it was dragged out of his soul. I felt him spurting, coming like a fountain inside of me, and shrieked again, head falling back, riding out my orgasm.

He finally stopped moving, and I rolled forward, my head coming to rest against his shoulder. I felt hot tears running down my face.

_What have I_ _**done** _ _? What in the seven hells is wrong with me?_

Guilt twisted my guts. I hadn't wanted this...had I? How had being horny and maybe lonely turned into this unholy _mess?_ With my friend unconscious and me riding the lap of a man I ought to hate?

I shuddered as I tried to disentangle myself from him. He slid out of me, with a wet, sloppy noise, but I had managed only to get part way off his lap when he stopped me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing me close.

“You are crying. Why?”

“I d-d-don't...know...” I sucked in air, but couldn't stop the sobs. “Sorry...s-s-sorry...”

“Do you think apologizing now makes up for what you've done?”

I felt like throwing up.

“No, no I d-don't.” I squinted at him through the tears. “But I'm s-sorry anyway.”

“Not good enough.” He smiled at me, a strange light in his eyes.

“Why are you holding me? Let me go and I'll...I'll...”

“You'll stay put...I'm not done with you.”

My eyes widened and I hiccuped, trying to force my tears away.

“What...what do you...”

“Since I am not a _savage_ like you,” but there was a hint of laughter in the word, “I won't flip you on your back and rape you, tempting as that sounds just now.”

Beer and the echoes of orgasm muddled my head so badly that I couldn't decide if I wanted him to fuck me again enough to let him try that. I scrubbed the tears away with my arm.

“No, I believe I'll blackmail you.”

“Huh?” I sat up, his knee pressing into my sex as my weight shifted. I could feel our mingled fluids oozing out of me.

His hands moved through my hair. “You _owe_ me, Berylla Seahawk.”

“You...you're drugged. You won't remember...”

“It wears off under certain circumstances,” he told me with a razor sharp grin. “I won't _ever_ forget this.”

“Oh... _shit_.” I dropped my head. “I-I'm...not going to make excuses.”

“Good. I wouldn't accept them anyway. Now get the hell off me. You're heavy.”

“Asshole,” I muttered even as I scooted away.

We didn't speak as we cleaned ourselves and dressed. Y'Shtola remained out cold, curled up on the crate, oblivious to everything.

“Look,” I said to Nero as he faced me, clothed once more. “I don't know what the Ironworks people are going to say. I can't force them to hire you, you know.”

“No, you can't. You're going to vouch for me, and say nice things about me, about how trustworthy I am, what a genius I am, that sort of thing. You know...” He grinned again. “Facts.”

“Do I get to mention facts like you're a colossal dick?”

“No, no,” he shook his finger at me. “Besides, that would imply you've _measured_ my dick, wouldn't it? And we can't have that.”

I stepped back a pace, and knew my face was flaming red when he laughed.

“Don't worry, I won't hold this over your head forever,” he told me.

“Oh yes you will,” I sighed. “I shudder to think what else you're going to demand of me.”

His eyes held mine. “Don't worry. I can't bring myself to be _too_ cruel to a woman who just gave me the fuck of my lifetime.”

The morning sun struck me full in the face, and I groaned, lifting my arm as I struggled to sit up.

My mouth tasted as if I'd been licking goat turds. I ached in weird places. My eyes felt crusted shut, and I rubbed them ferociously to clear them.

Cloth rustled near me, and I heard a distinctly masculine chuckle. Not just heard, but felt it – my hand was on someone's stomach.

I opened my eyes, and went pale.

“I wondered when you might stir, hero.”

“What...the...fuck?”

“Yes, that too.” Nero smirked at me, his hands tucked behind his head, a blanket just barely covering his nudity.

_I'm in bed with Nero._ I glanced down. _I'm_ _ **naked**_ _in bed with Nero!_

“What...happened?”

“Oh, so many things.” His smile grew wider, sharper. “Did you forget?”

Abruptly I did remember – enough to make me blush so fast and so hard it hurt. “Oh my gods,” I whispered, appalled.

He laughed, low in his throat. “Ah, so you didn't forget.” He brought one hand down, and ran a finger along my arm. I shivered, and pulled away, putting one hand over my mouth.

“Oh, don't look at me that way.” He shifted, the blanket riding down farther. “It wasn't all bad, after all.”

I could only stare at him, horrified. If what little I was remembering was accurate at all...

“I shouldn't be here.”

“Undoubtedly,” he grinned, “but you were in no condition to leave once you got into this room, so here you stayed.”

I sank my fingers into my hair. My head was pounding and my stomach twisted. “I should have just killed you.”

“Well, you didn't, for which I'll remain grateful.” The engineer sat up. “Besides, it's rather insulting to have a lovely woman act as though sleeping with me is the worst thing that could ever happen to her.”

Sudden, incredibly vivid sensations crawled across my memory, and my skin tightened, goosebumps rising all over me. I spoke without thinking. “It's not sleeping with you that troubles me. It's...what I did, what we did. This is so _wrong_.”

“Yes. It was. And you owe me.”

I gazed at him. “Huh?”

“What, you don't remember _that_?”

I wasn't about to admit to him just what I _was_ remembering, but his eyes drifted down, and he grinned. He rubbed his chin a little, and hummed thoughtfully.

“You and I came to an understanding last night,” he told me. “I do believe you'll be introducing me to a prospective employer.”

“The Ironworks...?” I paused. “None of them are here right now.”

“You couldn't have mentioned this last night?”

“I was drunk off my ass...sorry.”

He pouted. “Well, I supposed I'll need to go talk to someone...”

I waved my hands at him. “No, no, no! Look – there's an excavating team messing around with that big tower in the southeast, by the lake.” I didn't want him talking to _any_ of the Scions – how could I keep him away from the Toll?

“Oh?”

“It's Allagan,” I babbled. “They could probably use your smarts over there. It's where Cid is right now!”

His smile was slow and suddenly charming. “That just might do,” he murmured.

He leaned forward, and kissed the point of my shoulder.

“I should, uh, go.” I staggered out of the bed, and then stood there, staring around the room, trying to organize my thoughts enough to grab my clothes.

He laughed at me. “I wouldn't ever think that the mighty Warrior of Light could blush like _that_ ,” he chuckled. “And after the things you said and did last night...I'm surprised at you.”

I glowered at him, but it was half-hearted at best. My head was killing me, and I wanted out of here too badly to really snap at him. I forced myself to move, to grab my smalls and yank them on, all the while ignoring the waking coil of desire in my belly.

_I'm not fucking this guy_ , I told the treacherous snake of lust. _Not twice, anyway_.

I had gotten my pants on and stomped my feet into my boots by the time Nero got off the bed.

Silently he lifted my tunic, and held it out toward me.

I reached for it.

He grabbed my wrist with his other hand and pulled me to him.

“Let go,” I grunted, resisting. But I was weak and aching and hung over. Before I knew it, he had both arms around me, my tunic making a flimsy barrier between his chest and mine. The lust inside me rose up, and my hands itched to skim over the hard muscles that pressed against my breasts.

“I'll require more of you, since you cannot meet my original demand.” His eyes held mine.

“Money?” I asked, my teeth clenched. “I'll pay for your room for a month. Let me go.”

“No,” he answered. “I think I'll need a repeat performance. Maybe two.”

My mouth dropped open in shock.

He slid his hand into my hair, gripping gently at the back of my neck, and pulled me in, slanting his mouth over mine.

I protested weakly, but my body shivered with delight as his tongue invaded my mouth.

“You'll come back here tonight,” he whispered. “And you'll let me have my way with you.”

My breath hissed through my teeth. “You can't possibly want...”

“I know exactly what I want,” he interrupted. “And you know exactly what I'll do if you don't show up.”

I shuddered, and he released me. “I'll meet you at the tower.”

All I could do was nod, and pull on the rest of my clothes, and flee.

I checked the hallway twice before I opened the door, and whisked myself inside. Things were already bad; I didn't need someone seeing me right now.

I had spoken to Y'Shtola – she was fine, but she had given me one hell of a lecture about my misuse of conjurer techniques – but I had retreated before she could do more than that. Something in her eyes unnerved me, a glitter that made the hairs on my neck stand up.

As if that wasn't enough, I had heard a group of girls giggling over Alphinaud, no matter how I tried not to listen. How charming he was, how considerate, how romantic. I wanted to bash their silly little skulls together.

The day had gone by in a blur of aching and weary worry...and now I was back here.

He was sitting in the chair by the room's little table, a sketchbook or journal of some sort at his elbow. He grinned at me, his gray eyes raking me over. His gaze made me feel stained, and yet my skin tingled with excitement anyway.

“You're late.”

“You didn't specify a time,” I snapped.

“Fair enough.” He stood up, and gestured. “Come here.”

I stepped toward him, my arms crossed, watching him warily. I didn't resist when he pulled me close. But when he lay his mouth on mine, I didn't react.

He pulled back, and frowned at me. “Now, now,” he chided. “No need to be so cold. It's not like this is the first time we've kissed.”

“You want to have your way with me,” I said stiffly. “I'm here, aren't I? What more do you really need?”

“Ah, so you wish to make this into a little game.” He nuzzled my neck and spoke into my ear. “Shall I make you a bit more pliant, then?”

“What do you think you can – oh!”

He yanked me downward, putting his knee between my legs, until I perched on his lap. With a few quick, rough motions, my vest and my tunic both hit the floor, and he grabbed my hair and crushed his lips against mine. His tongue prodded insistently, demanding that I let him in, even as his other hand cupped my breast. My mouth opened as his thumb rasped across my nipple, and he took the opportunity, plunging his tongue into my mouth.

My body wouldn't respond to me. I wanted to struggle, to get up and leave and to hell with Nero's threats of blackmail. But instead I moaned and my arms went around his neck.

He eased off, nibbling my jaw and my neck as my head fell back. I felt his hands on the ties of my pants and shivered a little.

He reached inside my pants, and teased the curls above my sex. I wriggled, frowning at him.

“Ah-ah,” he chided me, his gray eyes dancing. “I call the pace this time.”

He nuzzled my collarbone, his blonde curls tickling my cheek, and lay kisses across my skin like a necklace. His hand slid up my back, supporting me as I leaned back reflexively, exposing my breasts fully to his examination.

I squeezed my eyes shut when his lips found my nipple, and bit down on the moan, not that it did any good. He chuckled, knowing how he was affecting me.

“You're a son of a bitch,” I groaned.

He didn't answer, just kept right on. My body shuddered in his hands and my mind went hazy. I had done without any sort of touch for days now. If the rumors I had heard were true, Alphinaud was...

My heart thumped in my chest. Was he touching those girls? Exploring them, making them moan and shudder under his hands?

_Seven hells, what is fucking wrong with me?_

I sat up straight, my hands clutching Nero's head and then yanking him up. I planted my mouth on his, suddenly desperate to sink fully into everything he could possibly make me feel. Desperate to get away from the thoughts that kept plaguing me.

Nero laughed as he kissed me back, his hands skimming across my skin.

Those hands were rough, callused, with blunt fingers. So unlike Alphinaud's pale, elegant hands that had never held anything heavier than a book, never wielded a weapon, only a pen. The mouth beneath mine was firm, the cheeks faintly stubbly with a day's worth of growth. The skin was tan, not pale, he was hard and smelled of machinery and leather.

I whimpered.

“You've gotten in the mood, it seems,” Nero purred in my ear.

“Shut up,” I muttered, turning my head and shutting my eyes.

“Oh? Now why should I do what you say?”

“Why not just take me?” I gritted. “Throw me on the bed and rape me, that's what you want, isn't it? Why tease me?”

His fingers gripped my chin. “Look me in the eyes.”

I obeyed him, though I kept my eyes narrowed, not wanting him to see too much.

“I am not going to rape you.” His voice was taut and his eyes were dead serious. “I will _never_ rape you.”

Then he smiled, and I shivered, a thread of real fear shimmying down my back.

“But I _am_ going to make you beg, Berylla Seahawk,” he told me, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “When I take you, you're going to want it, believe you me.”

“Can't be done,” I whispered, and he laughed.

“You're half way there right now,” he taunted, and ran the tip of his tongue along my neck, tracing my jugular. “I can feel it in your breathing, in your pulse.” His fingers slipped inside my pants, and he cupped me.

I gasped, and my hips ground against him, but he moved with me, not letting his fingers truly touch me.

“Now,” his voice was almost a growl, “ask me nicely.”

I shuddered and tried again to work myself against him. My mouth was open as I panted, bent over his arm. He teased my nipple with the tip of his tongue, and I whined with need.

“Say it,” he insisted.

“I...I...p-please,” I gasped. “Please...”

“Please, what?”

“Oh, gods.” My hands knotted in his shirt. “Please touch me.”

“Oh? Just touch? Just this, perhaps?” His middle finger barely dipped down into my folds and I hissed and whimpered.

“More,” I moaned. “Give me more than that, gods damn you.”

“Tell me exactly what it is you're begging me for.”

I cried a little, lust and shame mixing. “P-put your fucking _fingers_ in me. Touch my clit... _please_ touch my clit...!”

This time he groaned. As I felt his fingers enter me I wailed softly, my hips bucking, beyond my control. Nero whispered in my ear as he held me closer.

“Ride against me now, that's right, that's good. How does it feel?”

I whimpered again. “Wrong,” I told him, my voice breaking. “And dirty. And _fuck me_ it's good.”

“Good.” He nibbled my ear, and bounced his knee a little, making me yip at the impact that drove his fingers a little deeper for a moment. “Because you are dirty, you know. Filthy savage.”

I shuddered and wrapped my arms around him, clinging, finally, _blessedly_ , unable to think. He kept murmuring to me, kissing my shoulder, nuzzling me, even as his fingers worked me mercilessly.

My mouth was open as I gasped, helpless to do anything but feel.

I began to tighten around his fingers, shuddering.

Abruptly he _stopped_.

Before I could protest, he had pushed me off his lap. I tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

As quick as I could manage, I got up onto my knees, glowering at him. “What the _fuck?_ ”

But he was standing up. I watched, almost paralyzed by the sight as he yanked his pants open and pulled them down enough to release his cock. He yanked off his leather tunic, leaving only the lighter, linen tunic. He sat back down, legs spread, and then he beckoned to me.

“Come here. Remain on your knees.”

“But...”

“You didn't think you were going to come _first_ , did you?”

I snapped my mouth shut. A sneaking suspicion came over me that he was going to tease and taunt me, and never get me off at all.

And yet – I deserved it, didn't I?

Slowly I crawled to him, until I was kneeling between his feet. I looked up at him. He gave me that smug grin, and I wanted to bite him.

I grabbed the waist band of his pants and yanked them down all the way to his ankles.

I placed my lips on the inside of his thigh, just above the knee, and set my teeth gently against the flesh, suckling. I heard his sharp breath, and lifted my head to smile at him, a smile that felt like a bared blade, a smile that warned him what I _could_ do if I chose.

He grabbed my head in both his hands, and pulled me towards his cock.

I opened my mouth and took him, my fingers digging into his thighs. I sucked, hard, and he gasped, then rolled his hips against me.

I fluttered my tongue across the head of his cock and he moaned. The sound made my cunt clench with need, and I began to suck him in earnest, devouring him, greedy as a child with a sweet.

I wanted to reach down between my own legs, to ease the glorious ache, but Nero kept his hands buried in my hair, and his grip made me feel just off-balance enough that I couldn't spare a hand. I kneaded the taut muscles of his thighs, bouncing my head up and down on his cock. The curls that nestled at the base of his shaft were dark blond and wiry, tickling my nose every time I took him fully.

“Balls,” he whispered. “Cradle them. Do it.”

I shifted, and awkwardly cupped the hot flesh that dangled beneath his cock. I squeezed – hesitantly – and he writhed, bucking hard and gagging me a little.

His fingers knotted in my hair. He fucked my mouth, and I had all I could do to keep up and not choke as his cock surged in and out.

At last he let out a long, low groan. His cock twitched and I yanked my head back, hissing in pain as he pulled out a few of my hairs. I grasped him with my hand as he began to come, and directed the mess onto the floor.

When he was still again, he frowned at me. I met his gaze without flinching, feeling the sweat on my face, the wetness oozing down my thighs and soaking into my pants. In that moment I couldn't say if I hated him or not.

But it didn't matter. He wasn't done with me yet.

He stood, only swaying a little, and kicked off his boots and his pants.

“Naked,” he ordered. “On the bed.”

Without a word, I shed my own clothes, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

He grabbed a pair of bracelets off the table and came toward me. “Lift your wrists.”

Eyeing him, I raised my arms. He clasped the bracelets over my wrists, and I looked at them, turning my wrists a couple of times. They were plain steel, or something like it.

I looked up at him, and saw the device in his hand before I saw his smile.

My wrists snapped together.

“Do try to pull them apart,” he told me. “I'd be interested to see if the Warrior of Light has the strength to defeat the strongest electromagnets – of this size at least – that I've crafted.”

“Electro-what?” I tugged against the bracelets – no, the _shackles_ – and frowned. No chains, no lock. They were stuck together, as if by magic.

He snorted, and set the little device aside. “Now.”

He pushed me back onto the bed. “Arms up,” he purred.

I swallowed hard. But I did as he said.

“You look concerned,” he crooned. “Are you afraid, hero?”

“Never.”

“Liar.”

“Not afraid of _you_ ,” I shot back.

“Shall I change that?”

I closed my mouth, and just watched him. If he wanted to torture me in truth, he now had me in his power – or at least, I was okay with him thinking that. He hadn't, after all, tied my ankles.

He sat beside me on the bed, and trailed one finger across my breast. “I said I would make you beg.”

I twitched, and tried to hold still. He grinned.

He stretched out next to me, and caressed my breasts. “You know,” he said conversationally, “you're quite the fool.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“All these people,” he paused to lick my nipple, “they use you. Why do you allow it?”

“They don't...ah! They don't use me,” I bit my lip as he suckled me, while his thumb circled lazily around my other nipple.

“They send you out to fight their battles for them.” He switched sides. “You could leave them to deal with their own troubles.”

“That's not...how it works.” I was already panting. “I don't expect you to understand. You've never helped anyone in your life.”

He set his nails against my sides, and dragged them down, not so lightly that it tickled. Goosebumps rose all over me.

“I have ever pursued excellence.” His voice was thoughtful, even as his hands slipped down to my thighs, kneading, the thumbs making little circles that spiraled upward and inwards. “But you're right, at no time have I ever given away my talents.”

“Well, sometimes people just...ah!” I swallowed hard as he laved my nipple again. “Helping others is what I _do_ , damn it.”

“Yes, but you give too much of yourself,” he argued, leaning up and setting his mouth over mine. I wanted to retort, but his tongue fenced with mine, and then his thumb brushed across my clit.

All rational thought left me. I whined, deep in my throat, and wriggled, trying to keep his hand in place.

He chuckled, and the real teasing began.

He skimmed my flesh with hands and lips, until I was trembling with need. By the time he dipped his head between my thighs, I was breathless and sweating.

The feeling of his tongue stroking my outer lips, while his fingers gently teased their way inside of me, made me cry out. “Please!”

I hooked my legs over his shoulders and hauled him close. He laughed, and pulled back a little.

He crawled up my body, folding me, and I groaned as I felt his cock brush against me.

“Do you feel filthy, still?” His breath was hot on my neck as he murmured.

“Filthier than ever,” I gasped, rocking my hips.

“Yet you want me to do this, don't you?” He stroked against me, and I wailed softly.

“Yes...!”

“Tell me, then. Ask me for exactly what it is you want.”

I swallowed hard, my face burning. “P-please,” I stammered, “Please fuck me...sink your cock into me...please...”

“I like hearing you beg,” he purred. “Do it again.”

“Please,” I cried. “I need it...please give it to me...”

“Good girl.”

And at last, he slid into me, up to the hilt, one smooth motion.

I panted and groaned, as he waited, his head dropped onto my shoulder. “ _Very_ good girl,” he muttered into my neck.

His hips rocked against me, and slowly he raised up. I tossed my head, my hair in my eyes, and bucked, fucking myself on his cock. Every time he slid home into me I lost all my breath.

His gray eyes watched me as I writhed under him. His smile was less smug now, almost...tender. But his cock was ruthless as he thrust into me. The pace he set was punishing, and I was red in the face and gasping for air in moments.

When I began to come, he didn't stop, or even slow down. The noises our bodies made became lewd and sloppy, and still he kept on, and on, and on. I wailed under him, quietly, too out of breath to really howl, my limbs going to jelly.

I thought I might pass out.

But finally, finally, those gray eyes closed, and he shuddered. He came inside of me, and I blacked out for a moment, completely undone.

When I could see again, he was cleaning himself off.

He looked at me, and half smiled as he reached for the little control device. He clicked a button, and my wrists were released.

“You can get up, or not.”

I felt certain I couldn't actually move an inch. But when I tried, my legs responded.

I sat up a little, swinging one leg over the side of the bed, and paused. I had been sweating, and my legs had surely been covered in my own slick and probably some of Nero's too. But I was as clean as if I'd just showered.

I looked up at him, and he gave me a small smile.

Then he picked up my tunic and tossed it to me. “If you aren't going to stay the night,” he said, his tone as arrogant as ever, “Get off my bed, would you?”

The days passed. Outside of his room at the inn, Nero treated me with the same scathing wit and smug superiority as he did anyone else.

But in his bed...

I tried not to think about it. We fucked. We argued. We argued _while_ we fucked. Sometimes I spat at him, snarled and threatened to kill him. But every night, he ruined me in the end.

He had a remarkable collection of little “toys,” which he used on me gleefully, telling me all about what they would do to my shuddering body even as he manipulated them over and inside of me.

It was never the same twice.

And yet every night he took care of me in odd ways – little moments of tenderness that kept me confused and uncertain. I didn't _like_ Nero, but he was one hell of a lover.

But as we opened the Tower and climbed higher and higher, something changed. Nero got more and more introspective, and the sex calmed down. He would mutter to himself while he tormented me, esoteric things about tolerances and formulas. It made me shiver all the more when I realized it sounded sort of like Alphinaud's nattering over aether theory.

The sixth night with him, he wore me out so badly that I truly couldn't move. He stood by the bed, and regarded me as I lay there.

“Tonight, you stay.”

I tried to roll over, and failed. “Okay,” I whispered.

He moved around the room, dimming lights. When he came back, only a small lamp right by the bed remained lit.

He got in the bed, and dragged the covers over both of us, and then with a press of a button, the lights were all out.

I lay on my back in the darkness, and felt the tears running down into my hair.

Everything was so _wrong_.

I hadn't spoken to anyone in the Rising Stones in days. Everyone there was thoroughly busy, and I stayed away. I couldn't run to Haurchefant – by the time I staggered out of Nero's room, I was too ruined to think straight. I was sleeping at the camp when I could, and I had even slept up on the heights a couple of times.

I'd done this to myself, somehow. I no longer remembered why I'd been drunk, why I'd ruined Y'Shtola to the point of blacking out from pleasure. Dully, I wondered if Nero would just follow me around when it was time for me to get back into the field, for real. Maybe he'd never take his hooks out of me.

Next to me, he stirred, and then turned. I felt his arm go across me, felt his breath against my neck.

“Don't cry.”

“I'm not.”

“You're a truly rotten liar, Berylla.”

I sighed. “Do you ever get sick of yourself?”

“Do you ever stop pushing yourself to please others?”

“It's my job to...”

“It is not your job to anything,” he said, his arm tightening across my body. “You may be the Warrior of Light, the great hero, but you're also a woman, Berylla.”

“So?” I swallowed hard, wishing I could lean away, get up and leave.

“You could – you _should_ – take more for yourself than you do.”

“Why? What would be the point of that?”

He huffed a breath against my neck. “You're not stupid. You don't take care of yourself.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Stop being right so much. It's annoying as fuck.”

He laughed softly. He tugged at me, and I managed to turn onto my side, facing him.

“You and I,” he murmured, “are hardly friends in the usual sense. But somehow, I've developed a most irrational desire to see you well and happy.”

“And I suppose you know best what would make me happy?”

“Not a damned clue,” he said, with a honesty that made me flinch. “But I can see quite clearly that you're not happy, and I think I can guess why.”

“Stick to engineering, Nero,” I growled. “I'm not about to confide in you of all people.”

He laughed again, but then rested his forehead against mine. “I must agree, I'm probably not the best person to talk to for such things. But I'm better than no one at all.”

“I don't...” I sighed. “It seems weird to say this. But while I appreciate the thought, I really am not going to unburden my – my emotional troubles – not to you.”

“Can't blame me for trying.”

He pressed his lips against my forehead then, and just held me.

“Why?” I asked after a while.

“Why, what?”

“Why are you...” I sighed. “I don't even know what I'm trying to ask. Never mind me.”

Silence fell. I could hear little sounds outside the room. Dishes clattering as the kitchen folk cleaned. Someone singing, down in the square.

Nero's voice was so soft I could barely hear him. “Because you gave yourself to me.”

I looked up a little, though I couldn't see him.

“No one has ever been _sorry_ for the way they treated me. No one has ever put up with me for this long, to be honest with you. It's strange. And somehow...you've affected me. I'm not at all sure I approve.”

“Have I corrupted you? Me, the filthy savage?”

“You've infected me with hope. Quite terrible, for a practical man like me to have hopes.”

“I haven't done anything,” I murmured. “Except try to make it up to you, for...for...”

“Nothing except give me your all in your attempt to right a wrong. You don't understand, do you? _No one does that_ in the Empire. Certainly not among the men and women I worked with, competed with to earn my title. Any one of them would have stabbed me in the back at the first opportunity, and many of them tried to create such opportunities. You could have killed me, more than once, in the past week. For all your threats, you've not harmed me.”

I didn't know what to say. “So does that make me weak in your eyes? Worthy of pity and kindly advice about how to live my life?”

“It makes you,” he told me, pressing his lips to my forehead again, “a rare treasure, worth more than any relic or artifact. And one that, when the time comes, I will regret losing.”

I shifted, lifting my hand to rest against his chest.

“Whoever does win your heart is going to earn a lot of envy,” he sighed. “But enough talk. I'm excessively weary.”

He turned over, then. I eased closer to him, and curled up against his back. I heard him sigh – a tiny sound, but the contentment in it was clear.

I told myself I hated him, even as my lips curved in a small smile.

I knelt, holding myself up with one hand while the other clutched my hair to keep it out of my face, and vomited again into the bucket. G'raha was on one knee beside me, stroking my back, and I was too sick to tell him to go away and let me suffer alone.

I heaved again, but this time nothing came out. I panted for breath, spitting over and over to get the taste out of my mouth, and finally sat back on my heels.

“Water?” G'raha offered me the metal cup, and I took it in shaking hands.

The metal was blessedly cold, and I drank greedily, sloppily, spilling some down my chin. Then I held the chill metal to my forehead.

“I'm sorry,” I croaked.

“For what? At least the antidote kept you alive. I should be apologizing for the...ah, side effects.”

I grunted, and drank the rest of the water. “Thank you. For the water and for saving my sorry ass.”

“Come, let's get you settled, eh?”

I let him help me up and lead me back into the tent. It wasn't mine – it was his – and I staggered a little, trying not to trip on books.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and scooped up a stack of tomes, setting them on top of another stack. The whole thing wobbled precariously, until he poked it into stability.

“Lay down,” he told me, gesturing at the cot.

I crawled onto it, uncertain the thing could even hold me – I was easily twice his weight. But the cot didn't even creak.

“You should be fine in a few hours,” he told me. “I'll be right back.”

“Don't have to baby sit me,” I mumbled. “I'm a big girl.”

He just smiled and shook his head, and left the tent.

I stared at the canvas above my head, woozy and tired. I'd brought Nero to the camp, and sure enough he'd been more than happy to work with all the various devices, puzzling over carvings and random odd bits for hours. But his fascination with the tower and its contents hadn't deterred him from seeking his...other payment.

I squirmed, still unable to fully remember everything I'd done – still afraid enough to allow Nero to blackmail me for sex. It was sick. It was wrong.

But somehow it was always too much effort to really struggle. I was too exhausted from Nero's bedroom athletics to see straight, much less argue with him over whether my “debt” was paid.

_Well, maybe now it will be all over. Nero's gone. He's probably dead._

Why didn't that thought fill me with joy?

The tent flap moved, and I turned my head, hoping I could hide the sudden tears before G'raha noticed. I blinked, rapidly, trying to get them to go away.

I'd spent enough time here to get to know the red-haired Miqote. He was a nice person – kind, and witty, and charming when he put his mind to it. Endlessly cheerful, too – even in the face of my grouchiest moments. I liked him, but I didn't want him to see me crying.

 _I don't want to drag anyone else into the incredible fucking wreck that is my life right now_.

For a moment I wished I could visit Haurchefant...but no, I couldn't. I couldn't bear the thought of him finding out what I had done...what I'd allowed Nero to do. If he knew, surely he would want nothing to do with me. He wouldn't understand, no one would understand – how could they, when even I didn't understand how I'd gotten into this mess?

 _But I got myself into this. I should be able to get myself out_.

G'raha sat down next to the cot. “Turn your head,” he said quietly.

I obeyed, and saw that he had a cloth. He wiped at my face with it, very gently, and I let him, lying still and passive. My belly still quivered, the muscles on the edge of cramping, and I could feel the fever still raging across my skin.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked him. “Nearly got you killed too.”

“You had no control over what happened,” he said calmly. “And I'll thank you to recall, you were poisoned at the time.” Then he smiled. “Besides, I'm always nice to my friends.”

I made myself blink again. But this time it only made the tears worse.

G'raha frowned a little, and touched my hand. “Hey. Why are you crying? Do you have pain?”

I shook my head. Words pressed against my lips, and I bit myself. _Don't babble all your troubles to this poor guy, Berylla. He doesn't need to hear you whine_.

“It's okay,” he said, wrapping his fingers around mine. “I've heard people say crazy things when they're not well, you know. I've read tomes written by actual madmen. Nothing you could possibly say is going to sound strange, or pitiful, or upsetting.”

“...just whining.”

“Then whine. You've earned a whine, I would say, just based on the things I've heard lately. The past months haven't been easy on the Scions, but they've been hardest on you, haven't they?”

I choked. “What are people saying?” I rasped, fascinated and horrified at the same time.

“Does it matter?”

“I dunno,” I mumbled. “Feels scary.”

“What are you afraid of, Berylla?”

I clutched his hand, and a sob clawed its way out of my throat.

He put his other hand on mine, and I found myself babbling and crying, in a display of sniveling that made me want to curl up and die on the spot – but I couldn't stop, and the relief...

All of it came tumbling out, not always making a lot of sense, not always in sequence. Things I hadn't even said to myself. How much I hated what I'd become in the last twenty days, how sick and twisted I felt, how much I wished Nero really was dead so that it would be over at last...

Admitting that broke me, and I cried too hard even to talk, then.

G'raha shifted until he could get my head onto his shoulder, comforting me with little noises and touches, as I howled into his shirt.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he crooned. “It's all right.”

Worn out as I was, I couldn't cry for long. But even after I stopped sobbing, I let him hold me.

I missed the snow, and the cold. Things were too messed up, and I longed for the icy, clean winds of the highlands. I missed being just a common sell-sword, no one of importance, no one that anyone would want to bribe or blackmail or maim or murder.

“I wish I could go home.”

G'raha petted my hair and didn't say anything.

Morning came, and I woke up, still on the cot. G'raha was snoring, curled up on the floor of the tent with a blanket tucked around him.

I stretched, and groaned a little when my right shoulder popped – then groaned again, louder, as my back popped.

G'raha twitched, his ears rotating a little, and opened one eye. “Ah. You're awake.”

I turned on my side. “Sorry I put you out of your bed.”

He yawned. “Not the first time I've slept on the floor.”

I watched in mild fascination as he stretched and his tail curled. I'd seen Y'Shtola in the morning once or twice (and I blushed a little remembering the last time I had seen her sleeping), but she'd never stretched, just sat up, scrubbed at her face a little, and hopped out of the bed, pretty much ready to go.

G'raha grinned at me, seeing my stare, and suddenly his tail whipped around and swept against my ear, tickling me.

I giggled, and put my hands up to fend off the furry appendage, and he laughed.

“There. A smile. That's better.”

He rolled over and got up with boneless grace. He had to help me get up – I was _far_ from graceful, at least this morning.

“Wash up, and eat,” he told me, squeezing my arm. “I predict there will be plans laid out, by now. You'll need to be ready.”

I nodded, and then gave him a one armed hug. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

His ears wriggled, tickling as their tips brushed against my jaw. “Think nothing of it.”

He stepped out of the tent, and I followed.

But when I straightened, I stopped in shock. Staring at me was someone I hadn't expected to see – not _here_.

Alphinaud's eyes were wide, and the blush had already taken over his ears and was creeping across his cheeks.

“Oh, good morning,” said G'raha. “What can we do for you, Master Leveilleur?”

He snapped his eyes away from me, and fumbled for words for a second. “Ah – I was told Berylla would be here at the camp, and I came to, ah, collect her.”

“Well, you'll have a wait, Alphinaud my boy.”

Cid walked up, a thin sheaf of papers in his hand. “I'm afraid we have need of Berylla's talents, rather urgently.” He waved his hand at me. “Go get ready, please,” he told me. “We're heading back up top as soon as you're prepared.”

“Ah?” I squinted at him.

“They might be alive. I'll tell you more on the way up.”

I nodded, hearing the impatience in his tone, and hurried away, G'raha on my heels.

Behind me I heard Alphinaud. “Who might be alive? What have you been getting up to out here?”

Alphinaud was nowhere to be seen when I got back, and Cid was tapping his foot. G'raha stood beside him, his bow slung across his back, looking determined.

“All right,” I said as I came within speaking range. “What's the plan, then?”

“First we get in there and get up top. I've had crews working all night. You're recovered from that toxin, I hope?”

“Fully recovered, yes.”

“The other adventurers are already in the tower making their way to the top,” he said. “Let's move.”

“So what makes you say they might be alive?” I asked as the three of us started the climb inside the tower.

“The rift that appeared is one that can be reopened. There are things on the other side – living things. So it's possible that Doga and Unei are still alive in there.”

“And Nero?”

He eyed me. “I wouldn't have expected you, of all people, to be concerned for him.”

I looked away. “He's not a complete bastard,” I said awkwardly. “And he's been honest with us throughout this project.”

“Hm.” Cid shrugged. “Well, if those two are, then he probably is too.”

“So what do you want us to do?”

“You and the others go in after them, fight whatever you have to, and bring them back out.”

“I'm going, too,” chimed in G'raha.

Cid started to protest, and the Miqote glared at him so fiercely that he shut his mouth with a snap.

“We'll do all we can,” I said, putting my hand on Cid's shoulder.

I lay on my side, shivering even though the sun of high noon beat down on the top of the Tower. My aether was chilled with the touch of the Void that had tried so hard to consume us all. Around me, technicians moved around, gathering up the rest of the adventurers who'd gone in with us, helping them to their feet or carrying those who couldn't even move for being so drained.

G'raha lay near me, flat on his face. I stretched out, and put my hand over his. “Hey. You okay?”

His fingers twitched, and he turned his hand over. I let him curl his fingers together with mine. A simple touch, giving and receiving comfort.

My eyes drifted shut, listening, resting.

“Where is she?”

“Can your work not wait long enough for her to rest?”

“I just want to know where she is. I felt that – anyone with any aether senses at all felt that. What have you done to Berylla?”

“You want to back that attitude up, boy. This is _my_ site, _my_ project, and I have a lot to do right now. Go back to the camp. You can bloody well _wait_.”

“At least tell me if she's all right, Cid!”

The voices got quiet, and I opened my eyes a little way, squinting. I could see Cid, arms crossed, looking as angry as I'd ever seen him. Alphinaud stood in front of him, his back toward me, tension written across his shoulders. Then, those shoulders went back – in shock? I wondered what Cid had said.

Nero stepped into my field of vision. I groaned a little, and leaned up on my elbow.

He sat on his heels beside me, his eyes tired. “Well. It seems like I owe you my life.”

I regarded him warily. “I'd be happy enough to call it even.”

G'raha turned over, and sat up, his legs crossed. His eyes – both red now – bored into Nero's. “You've had your fun,” he said, his voice cold and hard. “You should leave her alone.”

“You told him?” Nero's eyebrows went up as he glanced from G'raha to me and back.

I pushed myself into a more or less upright position, my legs sprawling and still leaning on my hands. “I told him. Everything.”

“Huh. You've even less shame than I thought.”

“Some things are so low they're beneath shame.” I held his gaze. “Just leave me alone, Nero.”

He grinned a little. “Very well. You'll miss me, you know.”

My face burned, and he laughed. “Hold still long enough,” I muttered, “and I'll correct for wind. Bastard.”

He laughed once more, and leaned forward to plant a kiss on my mouth. “I predict you'll have a use for me again, eventually.”

He levered himself to his feet, and staggered off. I watched him go, and saw Alphinaud's expression of shock as the former Imperial passed him.

G'raha got up, and held out his hand to me. “Come on,” he said, his voice tired. “There's nothing more up here for you.”

I took his hand, and leaned on him heavily for a moment, until the dizziness passed.

Alphinaud watched as we approached, my steps slow and almost drunken. I stopped in front of him. His eyes searched mine, and I saw the hurt he wouldn't say out loud.

“As soon as you're able to travel,” he said, his voice hoarse, “you're needed at the Rising Stones.”

“I'll be there in a few.” I staggered a little, and G'raha caught me, surprising me with his strength. I nodded to Cid, and started forward, letting the Miqote scholar lead the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, if you stayed with me through all that, thank you!  
> I wanted to push myself beyond my comfort zone and boy did I ever...! Hopefully though some good story got through.
> 
> As always, this work was in part inspired and enabled by  
> Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club  
> Please come and join if you've a mind to do so!  
> https://discord.gg/8C6ZKTj


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